Remorse

By Elizabeth Fechser Hanson

A year ago friends dared me, for a lark
To carve my name upon a tall tree bark.
To me the tree seemed as some stately bride,
Sheltered by the rugged mountain side.
It looked so proud and graceful growing there,
Basking in the canyon’s fragrant air.
With green leaves gently swaying in the breeze
It seemed to reign o’er all the other trees.
And yet – I carved my name.

Some time ago those same friends challenged me
To take a trip, and see who’d find the tree.
‘Twas I who found it ragged, torn, and dead,
Its barren branches shivering overhead.
I hung my head with shame to know that I
Was one who caused a glorious tree to die.

And as I stood alone with head bowed low,
A prayer went up to Him straight from my heart.
Forgive us, God, for then we did not know
That we would thus destroy your work of art.

(1936)